A love poem to The Bay Area, with all its difficulties and persistent magic, whom I visited with last week

Back in New York with a bouquet for winter and a new blog.

(Or how I re-fell in love with The Beatles, and their creative life lessons while watching Peter Jackson’s GET BACK film).

Flowers for John and George, or: there is no writing about flowers this week, but I’m bringing them in anyway.

On honoring gifts through your imperfections, the word motherfucker as a form of self care (this title is leaning into clickbait territory), among other reflections-of-the-week.

A bouquet I made a few weeks ago and never got to share.

This week’s retrospective on the theme of finding your narrative loopholes — or rather, how I keep finding mine.

Don’t worry, we’ll get to this.

A brief meditation, ultimately on choice, under the “smoke that thunders,” Mosi-oa-Tunya (Victoria Falls), Zimbabwe.

On the symbolism of spiders, 1,000 year old civilizations, cow crossings, keeping our beloved dead alive and, of course, flowers.

From Zim, with Love

Jacaranda trees in Zimbabwe, photo by author.

Passing time before my complimentary Internet runs out between flights…

A free-fall meditation on the dreaminess of nostalgia, romanticizing the past and the slipperiness of time

A bouquet by the author, inspired by Olivia Laing’s thought-provoking “Funny Weather. See the face?

Caits Meissner

Caits writes here about mining for daily wonder, the lessons of grief, and building (which is simply embracing what is) an expansively creative life.

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